


Try As You Might, You Can’t Ignore It

by S_M_F



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Communication, F/M, Getting Together, Pining, Smut, and what lardo did after the junior art show, background zimbits if you squint just right, except for shitty's name, lardo's pov, mostly canon-compliant, per the tweets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 06:59:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10406517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_M_F/pseuds/S_M_F
Summary: Larissa Duan is, above all, really good at ignoring things (people) that threaten her cool artist-slash-hockey-bro image. Until it becomes impossible to continue to do so, anyway.





	

**Author's Note:**

> 1) I haven't written any fiction of any sort in longer than most of the CP! fandom has been alive. So here, have 3000 words of Lardo/Shitty smut. In other words, please be gentle, for I am a feeble old woman.
> 
> 2) I had started writing this before I found ziimbits' notes from one of Ngozi's livestreams, which basically confirm my version of Lardo, to wit:  
> "people think lardo is totally cool and perfectly badass all the time, but she has weaknesses, things that she hides. she puts on a mask of being always chill, but she worries about things like looking cool, whether or not someone she likes likes her back. she does have some problems communicating so that’s why, like jack, she befriends outgoing people. she communicates with art" (http://ziimbits.tumblr.com/post/133445066285/livestream-tidbits-vol-4)  
> *wipes brow*
> 
> 3) All characters and the dialogue in Scene 1 belong, of course, to the lovely Ngozi Ukazu.
> 
> UPDATE:  
> 4) Going back through the tweets, this is less canon-compliant than I thought. SIGH. (Bitty tweets about going for late-night froyo with Lardo the night of the show. SIGH.)

Larissa Duan is many things: An artist who somehow manages to meld Georgia O’Keefe and face off circles and justify it as a commentary on gendered bodies in sport. The manager of the Samwell Men’s Hockey team. A good bro. Haus flip cup champion two years running. Internet-famous for a hot minute after she publicly shamed NHL star Kent Parson. (See above status as undisputed flip cup champion.)

But above all, Larissa Duan is in control. In control of her bro image. Of her emotions. And if that means she spends a lot of time trying to ignore things - or people - that threaten that control? Well, that’s just how it’s gotta be.

*******

“Aw man… who’s gonna help me glue shit when you’re gone.”

Lardo tried to ignore the glint that appeared in Shitty’s eye as soon as the words escaped her lips. “… Oh no. that’s the third time you mentioned the “G” word. I’m so sorry, Lardy-Lards. We agreed on this…”

“I didn’t say it!” she protested, knowing that it wouldn’t do any good.

“Rules are frickin’ rules, bud.” The glint had turned predatory, and the next thing Lardo knew, Shitty had her in a headlock, knuckles roughing her hair.

“AHHH _SHITTY!_ My cred! My art friends think I’m angsty!” She tried to ignore the reassuring strength of his bicep against the back of her neck, the firm press of his flank against her shoulder blade. Yes, she tried to ignore those things, but she didn’t really make any effort to escape his embrace until she felt the telltale buzz. “Check your dumb phone!”

He held her for just a couple more heart beats before letting go to reach into his jacket pocket, where his phone had since gone quiet. The screen illuminated his face and Lardo - who liked to think that she had a pretty good handle on the many moods of B. Shitty Knight despite all the hours she’d spent trying to ignore that knowledge - didn’t know how to read his expression. He blinked a few times and looked at the phone again, as if whatever information was on the screen might have changed in the intervening seconds. Lardo tried to ignore the way that his hand had come to rest on her back.

Ransom noticed the sudden change in mood. “Yo, Shits, you okay, man?”

“…um…” was all Shitty could muster.

In three years, Lardo had never seen Shitty speechless. She tried to ignore the feeling of dread that was threatening to spread beyond her gut. “What is it?”

“I… got into Harvard.” She missed the pressure of his hand as soon as it dropped away from her back. 

The Samwell Men’s Hockey team, loudest of bros, frequent disturbers of Founders’ peace, creators of dining hall mayhem, all stared at Shitty in stunned silence. The moment didn’t last long, though, and soon enough, she found herself crushed against Shitty in the middle of a RansomHolsterNurseyDexChowderJackBitty group hug.

And she couldn’t breathe. She told herself that it was because she was being crushed by a literal half-ton of bellowing hockey player. She tried to ignore the way that her nerve endings lit up everywhere her body contacted Shitty’s. Usually being half the size of most of her friends was good for a laugh and a good view from Holster’s shoulders at Spring C; in this moment it also meant that she could easily escape the crush without anyone noticing and slip out the emergency exit.

*******

Lardo had learned from Jack that loading docks were a safe place to retreat to when you needed to be alone. When trying to ignore the feelings you wouldn’t - couldn’t - acknowledge got to be too much. When the façade of control was slipping. She preferred not to think about the number of times a seemingly innocuous interaction with Shitty had ended with her sitting out here, feet dangling, failing to ignore her feelings. And here she was again, on a cold winter night, tears spilling and almost freezing as they rolled down her cheeks. She had tried to ignore the fact that graduation was mere months away, and most of the time she succeeded. Somehow Shitty’s Harvard acceptance had made it impossible to continue to do so.

Which was stupid, she told herself. Of all the law schools Shitty had applied to (Harvard, Yale, University of Chicago, and Stanford, because the Knight family accepted (paid for) only the best), Harvard was the closest to Samwell. Hell, Harvard was closer to Samwell than her parents’ house in Marlborough, and she and Shitty had seen each other three times during winter break. (“Brah,” Shitty had texted. “Mom’s on sabbatical in fucking BORA BORA  - you have to save me from these Knight douchebags.”) 

She heard the door open and close, quiet footsteps approach, stop, then close the rest of the distance to where she sat. Jack dropped lightly to the concrete next to her and bumped her shoulder companionably, then offered her a handkerchief. Lardo’s tears slowed as she blotted them on the soft linen and she let herself absorb Jack’s quiet warmth. When she was with Jack, she didn’t have to try to ignore things; she didn’t have to maintain control. She could just be. And so, there on the loading dock of Kotter, she simply was - they simply were. 

Some time later, the door opened again. Lardo ignored it, but she felt Jack look up. “Hey, Shits.”

“Brahs. How are you not freezing your fucking asses off right now?”

Jack shrugged, gave Lardo’s hand a quick squeeze, and stood. He said something to Shitty but Lardo couldn’t make out the words. One set of footsteps receded, and the door opened and closed for a third time. The next thing she knew, she had a sport coat around her shoulders (she was, in fact, freezing her fucking ass off) and Shitty had taken Jack’s place next to her.

“You asshole, you know navy blue and black clash,” she protested weakly, because jokes made it easier to ignore what she really wanted to say.

“I think your cred will survive.”

“My cred runs deep. Nobody else’s project had touched literal hockey player dick.” 

“You are truly the artiest of bros.”

“Damn straight.” She leaned ever so slightly into Shitty’s side. He held out one fist for her to bump and slid the other arm around her waist. 

For the second time that evening, a buzzing phone saved Lardo from the hard work of trying to ignore feelings that she didn’t want to deal with. She stole a glance at her screen. “Fuck, sexiled again.”

“Claire?”

“No, Lara this time. But Claire - like she has any right to have an opinion about this after all the times she’s done it to us this year - Claire’s pissed.” She sighed. “I really don’t want to deal with their shit tonight. Tonight was supposed to be a good night.”  

Shitty pushed himself off the edge of the loading dock, then looked back up at Lardo. She thought she noticed something new in his eyes; she tried to ignore what seemed like a slight hitch in his voice as he held out his hand and said, “C’mon. You can crash with me.”

*******

Lardo woke the next morning as a shaft of sunlight crept across her face. She heard voices rising from the kitchen - Jack’s low rumble followed by a bright laugh and a scandalized “Mister Zimmermann!” from Bitty - along with the smell of fresh coffee. She tried to ignore how warm and comfortable she was in Shitty’s bed. She was only here because they were bros; she tried to ignore the tingle in the back of her neck every time Shitty’s breath puffed out gently.

She also tried to ignore the weight of his arm across her waist, the texture his leg hair against the backs of her knees, the way their feet were tangled together. She tried to ignore… 

Oh. 

No, she definitely couldn’t ignore that. The unmistakable press of an erection against her ass. Of SHITTY’S erection nestled in between her cheeks like it fucking BELONGED there. Her breath caught in her throat and Shitty shifted in his sleep, throwing a heavy leg across the backs of her thighs and rolling her until he was splayed out like a starfish over her body. He sighed gently, nuzzled her shoulder blade, and then relaxed back into sleep. 

Lardo couldn’t have moved if she’d wanted to; she tried to ignore the fact that this was the most relaxed she had felt … maybe ever. She tried to ignore the fact that all the things she had spent so much time trying to ignore were coming crashing down on her all at once. Relaxation and comfort won out, though, and she drifted off.

*******

“Oh FUCK!” Shitty sprang off the bed like a cat that had just been surprised by a cucumber. Lardo snapped awake instantly and sat up to find him standing in the middle of the room, buck naked, with the sheets and blankets tangled around his ankles. “Holy shit, bro, that was not cool. Not cool at all. Fuck, I was, like, DRY HUMPING YOUR ASS.”

“Shits…” she began, but he didn’t slow down.

“Was I not even fucking listening to myself when I talked to the frogs about consent?”

Lardo sighed. Only Shitty could rant about enthusiastic consent while at the same time being obviously enthusiastically aroused. “Shitty.”

But no, he was on a roll. “Where is my wallet? I’m tearing up my NOW card; I don’t deserve to call myself a feminist anymore!”

“BUCKMINSTER STEVENSON KNIGHT WILL YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP FOR ONE FUCKING SECOND.” Finally, she had gotten his attention. They stared at each other for a moment, breathing heavily. “It’s fine. It’s… it’s more than fine.”

There it was again - the look she had thought she caught in his eye the previous evening. It looked like… wonder? Shitty disentangled himself from the covers and took a step toward where she was still kneeling on his bed.

“Lardo?”

It was wonder, but it was also glowing embers, she thought as Shitty’s hand reached out and took hers, gently. Her stomach dropped and her breath caught in her throat. 

“C’mere, you idiot.” She dragged him the rest of the way to her, anchored her free hand in his hair, and pulled his forehead down to meet hers. “I’ve been … I’ve been trying so hard for so long to ignore this. I don’t even know why anymore; eventually it just became a fucking habit. But something … came loose in me last night. When you got the email from Harvard, it just came loose. I felt like I was splitting into a million pieces and that feeling didn’t stop until this morning.”

“When I…?”

“When you…”

Their lips met, tentatively, and in that moment, Lardo knew she was done trying to ignore this. Being with Shitty might be complicated but kissing him… wasn’t. Without breaking the kiss, Shitty stepped closer, dropped the hand that she’d almost forgotten he was still holding and wrapped his arm around Lardo’s back, pulling her flush against him. She let her hand trail down the back of his neck and come to rest at his waist; as if by some unspoken agreement, they pulled back, lips sticking together slightly. 

“Good morning,” she breathed. 

“Hey.”

Lardo leaned into Shitty’s embrace, resting her cheek against his chest. She could feel the heat of him through her camisole, and the press of his chin into her head as he rested his own atop it. “You need to work on your cardio, my dude; your heart is racing like you just played a hard shift.”

The vibrations of his low chuckle drowned out the hammering of his heart. “Shut up.”

Lardo sat back on her heels and took a deep breath. “So we should talk about …” She waved her hands indistinctly at the space between them. “…this …”

“Yeah, probably.” Shitty sat heavily beside her on the bed, head resting in his hands. “But right now I really would rather be kissing you,” he said softly.

Lardo cupped his cheek, turned his head towards her, and obliged him. It started gently, quietly, but soon enough Shitty lifted his hand to tangle in her hair and she was teasing his lips with the tip of her tongue. With a quiet moan, Shitty wrapped his hand around the back of her head and crushed their mouths together, hard. Suddenly Lardo found that she was nowhere near close enough, so she slid across him, straddling his hips and enjoying the fact that this position put them at about the same height. Shitty’s hands dropped to rest on her hips, thumbs circling on the skin above her waistband; it was at that moment that she remembered that Shitty was, as usual, entirely naked, despite their current situation being anything but usual.

“Wait,” she gasped. “Wait.” Quizzical green eyes locked onto hers. “Are we sure about this?”

Speechless for the second time in twelve hours, Shitty simply nodded. 

“Oh, thank fuck.” Lardo cocked her pelvis forward so that her panties slid along his dick as she settled into his lap. The heat and pressure of him against her clit was almost more than she could stand and she gasped and buried her face in the side of his neck.

“Lardo, hey. Hey, there, Lards.” Shitty had regained his powers of expression, apparently, but his soothing tone was contradicted by the tight grip he had on her hips, by his fingers sliding inside the silky fabric of her underwear to cup her ass and pull her, impossibly, closer to him as he rocked his hips to grind up into her.

Lardo turned her attention back to Shitty’s mouth while he dedicated his hands - why had she spent so long trying to ignore Shitty’s hands - to slipping the straps of her cami down her arms and cupping her breasts. She sighed as he ran his knuckles down her ribcage, pressed her nose into the soft skin just behind his ear, sucking lightly along his jaw. He took advantage of his mouth being free to dip his head and tease one nipple, then the other. Suddenly all too aware that the boys were right downstairs, she whispered, “Jesus why did we wait so long to do this.”

“I have no idea…” With that, he took her by the shoulders, guided her off of his lap, and laid her face down on the bed. His knees beside hers, hands bracketing her head, he lowered himself on top of her so that his penis was once again slotted perfectly against her ass. “So you’re saying that this is what it took for you to realize you wanted me?”

Eyes closed, Lardo nodded. Shitty’s mustache tickled as he dragged his lips between her shoulder blades.

“And you've been trying to convince yourself otherwise for how long?” Another kiss, this time at the small of her back, between shirt and underthings.

“Basically forever. Why do you think I ran away to…” She gasped as he pushed her top up to her armpits, his tongue following along her spine. “…to Kenya?”

Shitty guided her arms and head out of the cami and dropped it on the floor next to the bed. He took each of her hands in one of his, stretched them above her head, and let his full weight rest on top of her, head next to hers, dick now nestled between her slightly parted thighs. He breathed into her ear, “And how did that work out for you?”

“Well obviously it didn’t.” She shifted against him, craving the feel of his erection against her groin. Shitty obliged, pressing ever-so-slightly against her.  

“Shit, Lardo.” His breath was shallow, hot against her temple. “Shit. I was so wrecked when you went away.” A hand skated down the length of her arm, along her side, and slipped gently between her stomach and the mattress. He continued to speak softly into her hair. “I missed you so much. It’s such a fucking cliché but I didn’t realize how important you were to me until I couldn’t talk to you every day.” 

She whimpered at the loss of his weight when he raised himself up to hands and knees, but let out a soft “ohhhh” when he hooked his fingers into her waistband and smoothly pulled off her underwear. “Come back to me, Shits.” He pressed a light kiss to the back of her calf and did just that, keeping one hand free to wander along her ribs, her hip, up the inside of her thigh. “If you missed me so much, why didn’t you say anything?”

His hand stilled. “How do you think you would have reacted if I had declared my undying love for you a year ago?”

Lardo sighed and reached one hand behind her to comb through his hair. “Not well,” she confessed. “I probably would have drank a lot and spent a lot more time at Kotter than here at the Haus.”

“Something about a river in Egypt…” Shitty muttered. 

She chuckled. “At least I got there eventually, right?”

“Hell yeah, you did.” Rather than just talking against her skin, Shitty kissed it. Her ear, her shoulder, the nape of her neck where her hair was shorn all received the attention of his clever mouth. 

All she could do was whimper. “Shi…” A hand on her breast. “Shits, but I can’t reach you.”

“I know.” A hand slid down her side and under her hip, teasing ever so slightly between her lips. “I don’t want you to be able to ignore this anymore.”

“Ahhhhhhh… fuck.” Lardo gave in, buried her face in the pillow, and let herself forget everything but the feeling of his lips and hands as they roamed her body.

It didn’t take Shitty long to learn that Lardo liked her breasts massaged, her thighs kissed, her hips gripped. Lardo learned, to her surprise, that Shitty was a quiet lover. She reveled in this discovery, and took full advantage of the the few opportunities he gave her to touch or kiss him. After he had been teasing her what seemed like hours, though, she found herself desperate for more.  
“Shitty…”

“Mmmm?”

“This is amazing and all, but I really want you inside of me.”

Shitty groaned at her admission. She felt his weight shift, heard the tell-tale rip of a condom packet opening. Then, with one hand on each of her hips, he lifted her up and slipped his knees beneath her thighs. She balanced herself on her chest and elbows, biting back a moan as he started to tease up and down, not quite entering her, promising more but never quite delivering. 

“Jesus fuck, you’re killing me.”

With that, Shitty pushed into her, slowly but firmly, sighing as he did so. “Holy shit, Lards. You’re so fucking amazing.” He withdrew almost completely and thrust again, this time with more intention. “What can I do for you? Because…”

“Just… just fuck me. Please.”  

“Oh fuck.” Shitty gripped her hips once more, hard, and thrust home with a guttural moan. Despite her begging, he started slowly. Every downstroke pressed against her g-spot; she felt the ridge of his head on every withdrawal. They panted in time, the pace quickening until they’d lost all sense of control. When Lardo whimpered slightly, Shitty let go of her hips, leaned forward onto one arm and wrapped the other around her. The moment his fingers found her nub, she felt the waves of her orgasm wash over her. Shitty thrust twice more before a high-pitched whine escaped his chest and he all but collapsed on top of her. He nuzzled her hair before he rolled to the side, disposed of the condom, and gathered her into his arms. She buried her face in his chest and soon they had both fallen back asleep. 

*******

When they woke again later that afternoon, they wandered downstairs to the Haus kitchen, where Bitty was baking and Jack was working on his thesis. Both of their friends looked up from their work; Jack cocked an eyebrow. 

“Buckminster?”

*******

Larissa Duan is many things. But most of all, she is completely and utterly in love with the loud, overbearing, ridiculous human being known as B. Shitty Knight.

**Author's Note:**

> I have some ideas for related stories knocking around in my head...  
> In "Junior Art Show", Bitty is the one who notices Lardo fleeing... Why is Jack the one who goes to find her?  
> If Shitty and Lardo got together in February, how did they manage to keep their relationship a secret for almost a year (assuming that they are found out in "Me & Jack / Bitty & I", which seems likely)? Do Jack and Bitty know? Is it possible that Shitty confesses his secret relationship to Jack and Jack doesn't reciprocate? (Not cool, Jack, not cool.)  
> Are Lardo and Nursey two sides of the same "in control / chill" coin? 
> 
> Will they ever be more than thoughts? Who knows...


End file.
